


Infection

by autumnstwilight (sewohayami)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Biting, Blood, Character Study, Disease, Dubcon Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Unhealthy Relationships, bad people doing bad things, poor laboratory protocol, versdyn, violations of health and safety standards
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-22 16:02:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17665691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sewohayami/pseuds/autumnstwilight
Summary: Resting in a containment chamber somewhere in Niflheim, a newly freed Ardyn considers his options. Verstael is enchanted by his latest and greatest specimen, not realizing the immensity of what he has unleashed.





	Infection

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the Episode Ardyn trailer but written before the release of either the prologue or DLC so will probably not remain canon compliant.
> 
> At this point Verstael and Ardyn are both well on their way down the slippery-slope to evil, nothing about their relationship is intended to be in any way healthy or functional, but it's interesting to explore.

The cell was circular and lit by floodlights from every direction, which filtered through bars of cold steel. Here Ardyn sat in contemplation.

Though it might appear that he had traded one prison for another, there was nothing here that could hold him. The harsh, buzzing lights were certainly a discomfort after so many years of utter darkness, but his limbs were free to move, and so it seemed to him an improvement. When he chose to do so, he would simply warp through the bars and walk away, killing any who tried to restrain him.

But first, there were some questions he would like answered.

He liked to think that his long,  _ long _ imprisonment had taught him patience. He would sit back, listen, evaluate his options. Never again would he allow someone to command him, or push him into actions without knowing the consequences. He learned from his mistakes.

There was a hiss of a hydraulic door opening.

“Access granted to containment chamber. Evaluation to commence on specimen ANG 15-001.”

He looked up at the figure who was now standing before the cage. It was the same young man who had lead the apparent raid on Angelgard, the first to stand before him and look him in the eyes in many years. He had not spoken to Ardyn then, and had allowed his men to handle the gory duty of wrenching the barbed chains loose. Yet he was a person of interest. Though his skin and hair were pale, his features delicate, and his body utterly  _ breakable, _ he moved and spoke with self-assurance, conducted himself like a leader. The others may follow, but here was a man with a belief and purpose.

_ The most corruptible kind. _

Cowards, sycophants, they cared only for riches and power. They would flee like cockroaches when sacrifice was demanded of them. But a man who believed in something greater than his own petty lusts? He could be tempted to commit horrors, if only convinced that it served his higher purpose, to carry out the greatest of atrocities rather than admit the naivety of the ideals with which he had started. 

Ardyn knew this well.

“Greetings,” the young man said, giving a curt bow, and Ardyn had not been bowed to in quite some time, so he was inclined to accept the gesture, insufficient as it was. He gave a slight nod, holding himself with regality despite the rags that he wore.

“Do you understand me when I speak?”

“I do.” The accent had certainly changed, but the tongue was recognizable enough. Ardyn’s own voice was rusty from disuse, his lips feeling oddly heavy as they made the sounds, and he cleared his throat. The man introduced himself.

“My name is Verstael Besithia. I am the chief researcher of the Niflheim Empire, and commander of this laboratory.”

“Ardyn Lucis Ca-”

“You are the Immortal Accursed, yes?”

So that was what they were calling him now.

“Yes. That would be me.” He looked up through matted bangs of hair, and the young man looked back with an unreadable expression.

Ardyn gave a glance around the bare metal of the cell. “I’m sure that you know your security measures are utterly insufficient.”

“There’s more to this facility than meets the eye, Accursed. But I’ll admit, I’m hoping for a mutually beneficial outcome to this conversation.”

“You have freed me.” Ardyn raised his arms in a gesture of benevolence. “Let it not be said that I am ungenerous. I will hear you out.”

“Excellent.” The young man,  _ Verstael, was it,  _ shuffled some papers. “I would like to confirm the information that we currently have on you. First, that you are the entity that the underground prison on Angelgard was created to contain?”

“True, as far as I know.”

“And that, as of the time when we arrived, you had been imprisoned there for one-thousand, nine hundred and seventy years?”

“Would you like to know how many days?”

The young man blinked. “That will not be necessary.”

_ Many things are unnecessary, _ Ardyn thought, but remained silent.

He continued, “Third, that your imprisonment was willed by the Astrals and carried out by the Lucii, specifically Somnus Lucis Caelum, first king of Lucis.”

“Well, well, you  _ have _ done your research,” Ardyn spat, unable to keep the acid out of his voice. Verstael smiled as if this were praise aimed at him, a pupil giving the correct answer. “And yes, it was my  _ dearest _ brother who carried out my sentence, as a condition of his ascension to the throne.”

“Thank you,” said the young man in a perfunctory tone, as though the emotion in Ardyn’s voice were utterly irrelevant as long as his words confirmed the  _ facts. _ He then began his own explanation, one that seemed to interest him far more.

“We of the Niflheim Empire are conducting research into the phenomena commonly known as daemons, working largely with samples that were sealed underground long ago. Unfortunately they have proved to be… fragile, dissolving upon the slightest contact with sunlight, and also,” he clicked his tongue, “uncooperative.”

Ardyn took a moment to enjoy the irony of a human calling a daemon fragile, as though he were unaware of how very snappable his own pale neck was.

“Ah, the daemons. I imagine that they are indeed, uncooperative research subjects.”

“But you can control them, correct?”

Ardyn laughed. “I can  _ create _ them, if you wish. Would you like one right now?”

Verstael paled a little, “That… won't be necessary at the present moment. But this is truly favorable news.” There was an eager gleam in his eyes as he seemed to ponder his prospects, and the new discoveries that they might bring. The harsh light made the hint of a smile on his face seem pinched and ghastly.

He moved closer to Ardyn, standing just on the other side of the bars now, looking him up and down. It was, in essence, not unlike a house cat stalking a lion.

“What a perfect specimen I have found,” he murmured.

* * *

 

Ardyn was permitted to bathe, under supervision, and his hair was trimmed and brushed by assistants wearing floor length white coats and with their faces entirely covered by gas masks and goggles. He sat there, a wolf playing a lamb for the time being, and was rewarded with new clothes, which, while utilitarian, were better than millennia-old rags. They were a slate grey, not the white of a healer that he had worn before, nor the black of a king, but acceptable.

Warm water, clean cloth, even the touch of hands through heavy gloves, they were all things he had not experienced in a long time, and so he allowed them, and allowed himself to enjoy them. He  _ would _ probably kill everyone present eventually, of course, but there was no need to refuse these things in the moment when they were so enjoyable.

He was served a meal on a divided tray, some kind of potted meat with boiled vegetables and rice, standardized portions he suspected were shared by all in the facility. The bland flavor was augmented only by an excess of salt, but any taste at all was a fascination after centuries of limestone rainwater and bitter tears. He requested reading material, information regarding the current state of the world, and was given publications filled with Niflheim propaganda, exalting their victories and leaving lacunae from which he inferred their defeats. They had failed to take Lucis. His brother’s descendants remained on the throne. In a strange way, he was proud. His blood was strong. They would be his to destroy.

His bed was a bunk and mattress in a cell, and he didn't need to sleep, but he lay on it for a while anyway just for the novelty. The lights above him hummed incessantly, and he drummed his fingers against his own skin in time, writing an aimless melody in his head.

* * *

 

The young man returned the next day, coat swinging as he walked. He looked down at Ardyn, who was now sitting on the bed, impassively, but there was a trace of relief in his eyes. Perhaps he had feared his specimen would wreak havoc or vanish in the night. Which was wise of him.

“Immortal Accursed.”

Ardyn tilted his head in response.

“Your knowledge and abilities with regard to demons may prove of great value to us. Since you have cooperated thus far, I would like to make a further request of you. If I may.”

“You may request it.” This man was willing to play a dangerous game indeed, and Ardyn had to admit it intrigued him.

“I would like you to demonstrate your ability to create daemons. Under controlled conditions, of course,” he added quickly. “A... small example will be sufficient to start with.”

Ardyn smirked. Had he been less cautious in his wording, Ardyn might well have summoned up a Mindflayer just for the amusement of it. He could still do that, of course. But he preferred to deal with others with technical honesty, if possible. And if they assumed things from his words that he never said… well, it was not his fault.

They should consider it a lesson in the way of the world.

“Would you be so kind as to bring me a living creature? Any will do. I will turn it for you.”

“That can be arranged.” Verstael moved to a panel on the wall and spoke into it. A few minutes later, an assistant entered the room, carrying a caged rat. She looked at Ardyn fearfully before scurrying off herself.

“Bring it here then.”

Verstael passed his wrist under a faintly glowing sensor. The lock on the cell door had no key, but whirred and rotated as it opened. The final click caught something in Ardyn’s throat.

A foolish sentiment. He could have been free whenever he willed it, ever since his chains were broken he had been uncaged. But the act of another human, choosing to unlock his cell and replace the bars with nothing, trusting, perhaps in vain… It stirred the hint of an emotion he didn't think he had left.

Verstael entered the cell, and Ardyn stood in greeting. The cage was held out, the white rat inside sniffing the air furiously, whiskers trembling. Ardyn opened the cage and tipped the rat into his hands, catching it as it tried to run, stroking a finger down its spine. He could feel everything inside it, the light of life, the rush of blood, the impulses of the nerves. Already ailing from a life spent underground and captive, flesh weakened by despair. It called to the light that still flickered inside him, but instead it was darkness that he allowed to flow forth from his hands. The animal twitched and spasmed as the scourge entered it, and that alone would be enough to ensure that it turned eventually. But at the current moment, a more dramatic demonstration was called for.

He kept on pouring in the darkness to the tiny body that he carried, and the flesh bubbled and rotted under his touch. Bones twisted and re-made themselves, the creature swelled beyond recognition. He lowered it to the floor as it continued to grow.

“That is… a Tonberry… is it not?”

“A gift for you. Do you like what I’ve done with it?” Ardyn was beginning to enjoy himself.

Verstael looked at it warily. “I’ve heard it said that they are the manifestation of a powerful grudge.”

“Ah, yes.” Ardyn beckoned the Tonberry to him using the connection between them. “Once they have been wronged, they do not forget. Though their form, their name, their memory may be lost, the wound remains.”

“Interesting,” said Verstael. “Does it answer to your command?”

“To some extent, yes. But their hatred is great. One must be careful when they share their heart with demons, that they are not the one being controlled.”

The Tonberry poked the air experimentally with its knife.

“I can tell them what to hate. What they do from there is their own decision.”

“And can you vanquish them once called?” Verstael asked.

“Of course. Their power is nothing compared to my own.” He reached down and stroked the daemon on the head, absorbing it into himself as a cloud of miasma. Verstael started.

“I... was hoping to run some experiments.”

“Never you fear. This is just for safekeeping. I’ll return him to you when needed.”

He reached out to Verstael, placing a hand under his jaw to tilt his face upward, so that they were looking into each other’s eyes. The young man’s gaze showed a hint of fear, but to his credit, he did not flinch or look away.

“The question is, what is it that you want with this hatred?”

There was a wildness in Verstael’s eyes as he stared back, smiling even as Ardyn’s hand drifted to rest against his throat. He spoke of his imagined triumph as if it lay spread out before him.

“An end to this war, with Niflheim victorious and uncontested, free to pursue our own aims. Our glory will span all of Eos, surpassing even Solheim. Not even the gods will dare to oppose us. We will usher in the dawn of a new era.”

Ardyn ran a thumb over Verstael’s chin in consideration. Ambitious goals indeed. It seemed that Niflheim shared the same hubris that had lead to Solheim’s downfall. But who was he to dissuade them? He was no ally of the gods, they had made sure of that when they left him to rot in Angelgard. And this upstart, this Niflheim Empire, as they called themselves… He owed them no allegiance either.

His power was a cancer, a blight on everything good. No victory or glory could come from it, even to himself. Should he gift it to Niflheim, their proud empire would rot from the inside out, a bloating corpse leaking filth across the world. But what a show it would be, to watch them reap what they had sown, to willingly walk the path to their own ruin.

He found he no longer had any inclination to save people from their own folly.

“You too, must desire the destruction of Lucis…” Verstael’s lips moved under his touch, calling him back to the present moment.

“How would you know what I want?” His voice was old and bitter as he let go of Verstael, and he thought that he saw disappointment flicker across the young man’s face, quickly hidden by a mask of professionalism. The eagerness, too, vanished.

“I thought… Well, it is no matter. I will have to find then, what it is I can offer you to earn your allegiance. You are simply too precious a resource to let go.”

“A resource, am I?” Ardyn murmured. Verstael paled, seemingly realizing that he had misspoken, and began to stammer a correction. Ardyn continued speaking. “I find I prefer the term  _ ally. _ If that is indeed what we are to become.”

He brushed a strand of hair from that pale cheek, and looked into eyes that seemed to be too young for such a serious face. “I am sure that, given time, you will come up with many things that you can offer me.”

He drew closer, and Verstael shivered but did not retreat.

“But permit me to make a suggestion.”

The kiss was hard and deep. Ardyn knew that his lips were rough and that his stubble must graze, but his hand fastened once more around Verstael’s jaw, and the youth leaned into his touch. It seemed to take no pressure at all for teeth to break the soft skin of his lips, for the copper taste of blood to fill both of their mouths. It was hard to tell if Verstael was groaning and writhing in pleasure or pain, unable to pull away as he was. Ardyn crowded him against the metal wall, Verstael’s body warm and firm as he pushed back.

And the scourge spilled from his lips like a blessing, a cold and bitter note over the warm drip of blood. Verstael stilled, not limp but willing, as though he were entranced or intoxicated. A vessel to fill. When Ardyn broke the kiss, his eyes were dark, pupils blown.

Then he gasped and staggered back, eyes still fixed on Ardyn, hands fumbling with a control panel until they found a call button.

“Contamination…” he said, chest heaving. “Containment procedures… violated. I’ve been exposed.”

Another button press, and a steel gate descended to separate them. Ardyn continued to gaze at Verstael as he paced behind the bars like a caged predator, and from the terrified expression on the young man’s face, he knew that they were both thinking the same thing. The barrier between them would stop nothing. Ardyn was only ever as caged as he wanted to be.

Still, he was willing to let it be, for now. Verstael  _ would _ be his ally, even when it cost him more than he had ever been willing to give.

No immunity and no cure. For the infected, it was only a matter of time.


End file.
